


Post-mortem

by bubblewrapstargirl



Series: One Shots [22]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 21:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3744874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblewrapstargirl/pseuds/bubblewrapstargirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson never truly recovers from the death of James Wesley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post-mortem

Wilson never truly recovers from the death of James Wesley.

He wakes up each day and stretches his adult skin across the shattered boy he shelters inside himself, pressing his fingers against the seams to hold it firm.

Francis, and the other henchmen, fresh off the factory-line, can never hold a candle to Wesley's competence. None of them ever mention the moments when he forgets, and calls out for Wesley; only to falter, mind-step, when memory betrays him, a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

It takes three men to cover the space Wesley has left; because Wilson does not trust one man with the knowledge and access he afforded his friend. The new assistants get used to being Wesleys, until Wilson forgets that they were ever anything else.

-

"What shall we call him?" asks Vanessa, running one elegant finger across the baby's thin layer of hair. He is small enough to fit in one of Wilson's hands. This tiny creature dependant on him for protection and survival.

"Wesley." he answers, the word a fragile glass thread drawn between them.

Vanessa smiles.

"It's perfect," she whispers, pressing a kiss to the newborn's wrinkled forehead. "Welcome to the world, Wesley James Fisk."

-

"Did I ever tell you about the man for whom you were named?" Wilson asks, and watches the bounce of his son's curls as he shakes his head, though they have had this conversation many times before.

"He was, and still remains, the only friend I ever had on this earth."

Wilson presses his fingers against the cufflink at his left sleeve, never his father's now. He wonders if Wesley would have been proud.

"As an employee he was loyal; organised, efficient. He anticipated my needs and did not hide bad news from me, which is what made him invaluable to me. He did not flinch from what must be done, no matter now onerous, or gruesome the task. But he was my friend because of his kindness. He did not know how to be selfish. He gave me his time, his patience and understanding. He did not hesitate to remind me of my true path, if I ever strayed. He was _honest_."

The boy watches him with wide, guileless eyes.

"If you ever find someone so good, you must protect them. Or you will live out the remainder of your days as I do, in failure and regret."

-

When the Devil comes for him, Wilson does not hide. He goes into the final goodnight as calm as he has ever known himself. Contented by the quiet.

Wesley Fisk will press his fingertips into the grooves of the letters on his headstone. He will close his eyes and think of the empty spaces in their family, the spectre at their door, and learn to mourn the loss of the father who took his hand and led him into the world, alongside the one he never knew.


End file.
